Chatter reverberated across the tiled floor. Girls occupied almost every hover chair around every table. Raylay, Eyan, and Ty sat by themselves off in a corner. Relda and the oldest clones had a table to themselves. They chatted with each other, but in Relda's brain their conversation was a wordless echo. Pieces of memory flashed through her mind. A tiny Relda, approaching a colossal structure dome. A tiny Relda, engrossed in the content on a touch-desk. A hand the color of mined fuel, touching her hair.
The girls finished their food and gathered their utensils, wiped their faces, and wadded their napkins into a ball.
"It's 19:00, Mama," Darrion pointed out, extending her viewing screen. "It's time for bed."
Relda managed a weak nod.
"Mama, are you alright?" Anniston asked.
Relda pushed her chair away from the table. Her rise to a vertical position was a slow one.
"I'm fine," she said. "Get your sisters. More training tomorrow."
Moments later, Relda stared down a dark corridor. The memory of how she'd gotten there was vague. She powered the door up, and her feet carried her to her sleeping pod. Her feet carried her, but they didn't feel like hers.
Once she was in a horizontal position, her consciousness faded. Again, she stood, staring down a long corridor. Her father's strong hand grasped hers.
"You're two now," he said. "It's time to begin language learning."
"Language!" She echoed with a giggle.
"Yes. Language. Jucardian and Curian."
They stopped outside an unsealed doorway, and Relda's father freed her hand.
"Here's your class," he told her.
Relda put her fingers in her mouth and kept her eyes lowered as she stepped into the chamber. A creature the color of mined fuel stood tall behind a touch-desk. His neck was long, and his eyes were the color of the daytime sky.
"Good morning class," he said. "I am Master Etol. Today we're going to learn a language. Sound fun?"
Relda turned on her side. So far, the dream, and the memories, made her feel warm and light. Nothing like the heavy disconnect she felt at dinner. Seconds later was when the dream memories felt heavy and dark.
Etol grasped Uncle Aven's shoulder as they stood outside a docked transport. A year had passed since language class.
"Will you be okay?" Aven asked. "The plague seems to have missed your kind so far."
Etol placed his hand on Relda's head. She looked up at him.
"So far, yes," he said. "But I have been having dreams. Our kind will not escape danger forever. An enemy is coming. No one is sure when. Now, you must leave. Your kind must survive."
Etol wrapped a black cloak around Relda. It was much too big, but it was soft and warm.
"This cloak is the disguise cloak for our people," he told her. "None others are like it anywhere."
Uncle Aven scooped Relda in his arms and secured her in a safety seat.
"We're grateful," Uncle Aven said. "For everything."
And then he took the pilot seat, and the ship launched into space, leaving Etol a shrinking figure in the background. Relda opened her eyes and sat up in her pod. It was a dream, but it wasn't. The memories were as vivid as the day after they happened. Relda rubbed the drowsiness from her eyes.
It would likely be a sleepless night.